Take me back, Take me home
by itainthardtryin
Summary: Part 1 from Sams POV as he tries to fix Brittana's broken relationship, part 2 from Santana's POV as she tries to do the same. Complete. Some S4 spoiler speculation.
1. Chapter 1

You're a little worse for wear - you don't understand how the amount of alcohol never seems to go down even though everyone around you is _so _far past drunk - and you need air. You just need a few seconds to yourself outside, because Mike throws an awesome party when he's back in town but it's all just a bit much for a guy like you. You've never been into the whole loud music, drunk people sort of parties. You prefer a few of the guys round at your place, a few beers and an xBox tournament.

It takes you a while to remember how to get outside. It's like an obstacle course, and you swear someone's actually put these stools here for badness because that's the third one you've tripped over. Eventually you find the patio door, make your way outside and close it behind you.

You can still hear the muffled sounds of music and the raised voices of people singing along or encouraging another dance-off, but on the whole it's pretty quiet out here. You take a quick look around to make sure you're alone.

You aren't.

There's a figure sitting on the steps to your left. You make your way over to them slowly, because whoever it is you don't think they know you're here and you don't want to scare them. Your vision is blurred but when you get close enough that you're only a few steps away, you realise the figure is Brittany.

"Hey, Britt," you say to get her attention. "I thought you'd be in there dancing."

Brittany turns around to look at you then and your eyes widen as you notice the tears on her cheeks and the sadness on her face.

"Britt..."

She doesn't say anything as you make your way over to sit beside her. You wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her into you. She holds onto you like you've never seen anyone hold onto you before. She cries into your chest for what seems like forever.

As you rub circles on her back to try and offer her some sort of comfort, you keep saying "It's okay, it's okay" but she just shakes her head.

"I miss her," Brittany manages to get out through her tears when she's calmed down enough to talk. "Sam, I miss her so much. I can't- I can't- I don't-"

"Shhhh," you say as you tighten your grip on her. You miss her too, but nowhere near as much as Brittany does. Yeah, maybe once or twice you've missed her so much that you had to clear your throat and wipe your eyes a little, but you know that's nothing - _nothing_ - compared to what Brittany feels.

You can't even imagine how Brittany feels.

"I've ruined it," Brittany says, and you let her speak. You know she needs someone to talk to right now. "I've ruined everything. I've - she - I lost her. I lost her, Sam. Not just as my girlfriend but as my best friend too and I- I don't know how- nothing makes sense without her," Brittany cries.

"I know, I know." You do know. You've seen how Brittany's smile isn't as big and how it takes her twice as long to pick up the routines in Glee. You've seen how she only comes to a party every few months now, not every week. You've seen it all. You know.

"Ryder... he's... I like him, but he's not- he's not-"

"He's not Santana," you say for her, and a sob erupts from her at the mention of her name.

"I love her."

"I know you do."

"No, you- I still love her. Like proper love her." She looks at you then and her eyes kind of take your breath away a little because you've never seen someone be so completely honest.

"Okay," you say because, fuck, what else are you meant to say?

"Do you... do you think she'd take me back?"

_That_ surprises you. Not that she wants to be with Santana, but the fact that she has to even ask that question.

"Are you serious?!"

"Sam..." Her voice is so small and so scared and you hate it. You hate that your two best friends are both hurting so much and you can't do anything about it. You hate it.

"Britt, she'd take you back in a heartbeat. A _heartbeat_. You hear me?"

Brittany starts crying again at that.

* * *

"You need to sort your shit out, Santana," you say in lieu of a greeting the next time you Skype with her.

"Nice to see you too, Trouty."

"Seriously, sort it out."

"Sort what out?" she asks, and it's clear to you that she actually has no idea what you're talking about.

"Really? Brittany! Sort your shit out with Brittany or I'll come down there and make you do it."

You noticed how she physically flinched at the name but to her credit she doesn't change the subject.

"I'm in Kentucky," she says. "There's no way you'd come the whole way down here."

"I spent an hour last night with your ex-girlfriend crying into my shoulder because she loves you and she misses you."

It's obvious that the words 'ex-girlfriend' are dealt like a physical blow to Santana's chest, and again with the word 'love'.

"She doesn't- she- she split up with _me,_" she stutters.

"She loves you."

"Then why the fuck did she end it?!"

"You were both finding it hard."

"Hard? Oh no, you have no idea what the word hard even means until you have to live fucking miles away from the one person that makes your whole world complete. Hard doesn't even come close."

"If it was so hard, then why didn't you break up with her? It would've been easier, right?"

Santana looks at you then like you're an idiot. You kind of feel like one too. You know what you're saying is dumb but you need to make her realise. You need to let her come to it on her own. She's never listened to anyone else - anyone who isn't Brittany - so she needs to come to the realisation herself.

"Easier? You think this is easier? Not talking to her, not seeing her face on Skype, not waking up in the morning with a text from her? Going to the mall and seeing a fucking hat with a pom pom on it and not being able to buy it for her as a present? You think this is fucking _easy?_"

"I didn't mean-"

"No, I know what you meant. I didn't break up with her because I love her. I love her more than you could ever even imagine, okay? I- I don't care how hard it is - was - I don't care, because even if it hurt like a fucking bitch to be away from her for weeks at a time, at the end of it all I was still coming home to her. She was still mine and I don't care how much it hurt to be away from her, I'd do _anything_ to make sure I could still call her my girlfriend. But what a lot of use that did..."

Santana trails off, slightly self conscious that she'd been so honest with you so easily.

"So if you'd do anything to call her your girlfriend, why isn't she?" You know you're overstepping. You know you're pushing. But you have to.

"Because _she_ doesn't feel the same way. _She _doesn't think that all the hurt is worth it."

"But it is," you say and you have no idea why.

"Of course it fucking is."

"So show her."

"As if it's that simple."

"You managed to show her once that all the hurt was worth it in the end, so why can't you do it again?"

Santana's eyes widen and she looks away from the screen in genuine thought. You smile a little because you know she's starting to get it.

* * *

_ryder._

You stare at the text on your screen not really understanding why Santana is sending you his name. Then your phone goes off again.

_that's why i'm not worth it. _

You wish Santana was here in person so you could slap her or yell at her or something. The fact that she genuinely thinks she isn't worth it makes your heart break for them both.

_ur worth more than u think u r. trust me. _

You just wish she could see it.

* * *

_i broke up with him._

You're pulling an all nighter with Artie at his house playing Call Of Duty when you get it. It's close to four a.m. and you have to do a double take at your phone.

"I'm kinda tired, dude, can we call it a night?" you ask him.

"What?! Uh uh, no way, Sam Evans you are not fading on me like this, I need you for this mission! You can't leave a bro alone!"

_"No, I can't,"_ you think as you look at your phone again. "I think I'll be more use to you not playing than if I did," you say and you put the controller down, reach for your phone and make your way out of the room to go to the bathoom.

_i'm sorry. r u ok?_

You really are sorry. Brittany's in such a crappy situation and it's not the first time she's been there. It's not the first time she's had to choose between a boy and Santana. (You really, really, _really_ hope it's the last.)

_i don't know._

You read over the message a few times and lean your head back against the locked door of the bathroom where you're standing.

_does she know?_

You don't know if you want her to reply with a yes or a no.

_she will tomorrow if she goes on fb._

Sam thinks that's the worst possible way Santana could find out - that noone felt it necessary to tell her - so you takes matters into your own hands and text her.

_britt's single. make your move, lopez._

* * *

You don't find out how much of an idiot Santana is until a week later.

"So..." you say to Brittany as you playfully nudge her in the ribs. "How is she?" You even let a little smile come over your face.

"Who?" Brittany asks cluelessly.

"Who do you think? Santana."

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" you ask, confused.

"I mean I don't know."

You don't even give her time to explain any further before you're up out of your seat and storming out of the room to the empty Home Ec classroom where you pull out your phone and call Santana.

It goes to voicemail, so you hang up and call again. And again. And again.

Your blood almost boils with anger because you know her timetable and you know that at three thirty on a Tuesday she doesn't have class. She always goes back to her dorm and chills until her Legal History class at six.

She's ignoring you.

You let it go to voicemail one last time and this time you leave a message. You're surprisingly calm.

"Santana, I don't know what the hell is going through your head right now but if you don't do something soon you're going to lose her. And not like you just did. I mean for good. You need to get your act together and get your girl back because she isn't going to wait forever. You need to show her that you're worth it, and you _are _Santana. God, that girl loves you more than I think you know. You're more than worth it to her. She's just waiting for you to show her that she's worth it too."

You hang up the phone and hope that she acts before it's too late.

* * *

_what if she breaks up with me again? i think it'd kill me. i can't go through this again._

You don't know what you need to do to show Santana that Brittany needs her just as much as Brittany needs her.

_she won't. trust her. she loves u._

_i trusted her before & she broke my heart._

_what's worse? never knowing what cud have been or risking it for her?_

Santana doesn't reply.

* * *

You're making your way through an endless pile of homework when someone knocks your door.

"Come in!" you shout, sure it's your mom.

You hear the door open and then there's silence for a second then, "Hey."

You spin round on your chair and you're on your feet before your brain can even catch up. You wrap your arms around Santana and you hug her like you've never hugged her before. "What the hell are you doing here?! A little heads up would've been nice!"

You pull out of the hug and you see that she's smiling. She's smiling for the first time in weeks. "Thought I'd utilise the element of surprise," she smirks.

"Well I'm definitely surprised! But why are you here?"

Something flashes across her eyes - something like doubt or nerves or fear - but as soon as you see it, it's gone and replaced with determination.

"I'm here to get her back."


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: just reminding you that there's a switch in voice from Sam to Santana for this part :)**

* * *

"I'm here to get her back," you say, and you almost laugh as you watch Sam's face turn from surprised to disbelieving in less than a second.

"No way," he says with a dopey grin on his face, like he's just been asked to single handedly save Gotham City or something. "For real?"

"I'm going to try to at least." Your confidence is wavering, because, god, this is either going to be the best day of your life or it's going to break you like never before.

"You'll get her back," he says, as he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Now what's our plan of action?"

The use of the word 'our' instead of 'your' makes you feel loved and wanted in a way you know you need right now and your heart aches in the best way possible. You swear if you were straight you'd never have broken up with this guy.

* * *

Even though you drove to his house and your car is like, right there, he still offers to drive. He tells you it's because being alone is something you probably don't need right now, but you know that the real reason is left unsaid. If she turns you down and you're driving home in that state- well. You don't really blame him for driving you.

You don't say a word on the ride over, but Sam looks at you every few minutes as if to check that you're still there. (As if you'd be anywhere else.)

The closer you get to Brittany's house, the more intense the sick feeling in your gut becomes and you swear you're going to throw up before you even get there. It's only occurred to you now - you don't really understand how you didn't figure this part out before - that you're going to see Brittany in person for the first time in _months._

"Santana?" You feel his voice, soft and comforting, more than you hear it, and it snaps you out of your thoughts and back into reality. "Santana, we're here."

He's right. You look at Brittany's house and begin to panic slightly. Your breathing speeds up, becomes shallow. Sam unclicks his seatbelt and reaches over to you. "Santana, look at me." His voice is firm and unwavering, so you do as he says. You turn and you look at him. "It's going to be okay. She loves you, you love her. That's all there is to it," he smiles. "It's Brittany."

The way he says her name makes everything fall back into place and you know what he means. This is the girl you've grown up with all your life. Who's stuck a band aid on your knee when you were seven, stuck a metaphorical band aid on your heart when you realised that sleeping around with boys wasn't going to make you any less gay. It's _Brittany_ and you're Santana and that's all the reasoning you need.

"Thanks," you say quietly. "For everything. I mean, I know I've been an idiot and kind of unbearable recently."

"Recently?" Sam jokes, and seriously, you don't understand why other people can't see how amazing he is.

"Shut up," you laugh back as you punch him playfully on the shoulder.

"Go," he says, lifting his gaze to Brittany's house. "Go get your girl."

You reach over the console and hug him tighter than you ever have before.

* * *

You've been at Brittany's front door more times than you can count, but you don't think you've ever been this nervous. Maybe when you came to pick her up for prom, but that was a completely different type of nerves. That was a butterflies in your stomach, overflowing with happiness kind of nerves. This kind of nervousness feels like the one last piece of hope in your chest is the only thing holding you together, and if Brittany says no that one last thread will snap.

It seems like an enternity since you knocked, but you finally hear the tell tale signs of life in the house and someone coming towards the door. You don't even notice that you hold your breath. The door opens and-

"Santana!" Brittany's mom exclaims. "What a lovely surprise! It's been so long since I seen you. How are you?"

You start breathing again because it's so familiar and so right and so like home that you don't know how you ever stayed away.

* * *

Brittany isn't in. You don't know if it relaxes you or sets you even more on edge. All you know is that when Mrs. Pierce said _Oh, she's not here dear, she's out with-_ every single fiber of your being hoped that the end of that sentence wasn't Ryder. When she'd said _Sugar_ you felt a happiness like you haven't felt in a long, long time.

You tell Brittany's mom all about Loiusville, about your cheerleading scholarship, about your new classes, your dorms, college life. You tell her about keeping in touch with Sam and how Quinn's flying high in New Haven and how Rachel, well, she hasn't changed at all and is still on a mission to get her name in a Playbill.

You talk and you talk and you talk but you don't mention Brittany.

That is, until she arrives home about an hour later, just as Brittany's mom is getting up to make you another cup of coffee.

You hear the door open and your heart instantly speeds up.

"Hey mom!" you hear her say and the happiness and joy in her voice is so obvious that you hate yourself a little because you know you're going to take it away again.

"Britt, you have a visitor..." her mom trails off, and you hear the warning tone in her voice.

"Oh cool, really?" Brittany says. "Who?"

Her mom must point in the direction of the living room because the next thing you know Brittany's standing there looking at you as if you'll disappear if she doesn't.

"Hi," you say, timidly.

Brittany takes a few steps closer to you, but she's being cautious. She's never been cautious around you before, and it makes your heart sink a little.

"I- can we talk?" you say.

She looks at you, and something shifts in her eyes, like she's decided that you're not going to run away and she smiles slightly. You swallow because her smile has always been the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. But this smile? This small, scared, fragile smile? It might be you favourite.

"Sure," she says. "Let's go to my room."

* * *

Both of you are acting like you've forgotten how to be around each other, but there's a small part - small, but still there - that is so familiar and so normal that you don't know what to do with it. Like how Brittany sits on her side of the bed, not yours, even though you can see the blankets are messed up like she slept in the middle last night. Or how she pushes one of the pillows on her bed over to you, because she knows you need something to do with your hands when you're talking about things that scare you.

There's an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, but then you're surrounded by Brittany as she leans over and hugs you. Her hands grip at the fabric of the t-shirt on your back, and she tucks her head in against your neck. It's only when you feel the wetness of her tears against your skin that you snap out of your daze and you hug her back.

"I missed you so much," she whispers against you and that's when you start crying too. You don't care what she means. You don't care if she means as a girlfriend or a best friend or both. In this moment the only thing that matters is that she missed you. "I missed you too," you choke out, and she laughs in disbelief (you do too) because it feels so right to be in her arms again and you don't think you could control your tears if you tried.

* * *

You stay like that for a few moments, soaking each other in in a way you haven't been able to for weeks, months. For a second everything feels perfect again.

Then Brittany pulls away.

She sits back on the bed, crossing her legs in front of her and nervously plays with the sheets at her side.

"We... we should probably talk," she says, so shy and timidly that it almost hurts you to hear.

"Yeah," you breathe out.

Then there's silence again.

It seems to be getting louder and louder and you can't bear it.

"I'm sorry," you say, and you aren't sure if you actually said it or not so you say it again, louder. "I'm sorry."

You can tell by the way her face scrunches up in confusion that she wasn't expecting that. "What?" she questions. "Why are _you_ sorry? Santana, you've nothing to be sorry for." She looks at you for a moment, so honestly and so seriously that you have to look away. "Nothing."

You're not going to let her take full blame for this. Not when you're as much in the wrong as she is.

"No," you start, and fuck. You still really don't know how to talk about these things, but her face and her eyes and just _her_, gives you the reassurance you need to know it's okay to talk about your fears.

"No, I have a lot to be sorry for," and then you don't know where to go from there. "When you..." the words don't come easy, "broke up with me... I... god, it felt like I was _dying_." You watch as tears well up in her eyes and she looks so guilty and so sorry that you can't bear it. You reach out and hold her hand. "Hey, don't. I didn't mean it like that." She smiles sadly and you know that you should continue.

"I was so wrapped up in how much everything hurt and how alone I was that I didn't do anything to get you back. I just... I just let you walk away. I didn't even fight for you. I just let you walk away," you repeat as if saying it again will suddenly justify why you did.

"I don't blame you," Brittany says, and you look up to make eye contact with her. You can see in her gaze that she's not just saying the words to comfort you. She truly means them, and it leaves you slightly breathless. You shake your head before you continue.

"I should have fought for you. I should have shown you how all the pain and all the shit we have to go through is worth it." You're struggling now, the tears threatening to take over. "You're worth all that and more, Britt," you say as softly as you can as you rub your thumb over her knuckles where you're still holding her hand. "I'd do anything to keep you in my life. Anything."

She lets out a sob and she leans over and hugs you again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she cries into your shoulder, and you just hold her. You hold her and you breathe her in because, god, you love her.

She pulls away and wipes the tears from her eyes, but doesn't keep as much distance from you this time. "I hate myself for what I did to you," she says, and you can tell that she really means it. It hurts you probably just as much as it's hurting her because she should _never_ feel like that about herself, least of all because of you.

"Don't," you tell her. "Please," you add.

She shakes her head as if she's refusing. "I hurt you."

You can't lie to her and tell her she didn't because over the past few months you've hurt more than you thought was even possible because of her, so you just look down at the bed and avoid her gaze.

"I hurt you so much, and I can't stand it. I can't stand it because it's my fault that we spent the last four months not talking and it's my fault that you've been crying so much and it's my fault that you're crying now, and I can't _stand it."_

"It's okay," you say because you don't know what else _to_ say.

"It's _not_ okay! I messed everything up! Everything we had, I ruined it! It took us so long to get there and then I messed it all up."

"We're both to blame."

"Santana..."

"No, we are. But there's no point wasting time worrying about who's fault it was when we can try to fix it instead." The way her whole face lights up at the idea of fixing your relationship makes you feel lighter than you have in as long as you can remember.

"You mean...?" The hope is so apparent in her voice and if you weren't so sure of what you wanted to say, it'd leave you speechless.

"I'm willing to try to fix us if you are."

She smiles so brightly, and she cries too, and you don't think she's ever been so beautiful in all the time you've known her than in this moment of sheer happiness.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod, shyly.

"So we can try to work this out?"

"I mean it's not gonna happen overnight, and we have a lot more we need to talk about, but I'm pretty sure if anyone can get through this, we can, right?"

She doesn't respond with words. Instead, she nods and then leans forward so slowly, so she's on her kness leaning into you. She doesn't touch you with her hands, she just keeps them on the bed to hold her weight as she gets closer. Her eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and you know she's waiting for you to give her any indication that she's overstepping her boundary or that you don't want it. You know if you kiss her that everything isn't going to be magically better, and you still have a hell of a long way to go to be able to fully trust her again, but you want to kiss her more than you ever have in your life.

So you don't stop her.

It takes the longest time for her lips to touch hers, but you can't move forward to meet her. You're frozen in place, with the anticipation of kissing the girl you love for the first time in five months almost too much to handle.

When her lips meet your own you breathe out and instantly relax.

You swear to yourself you'll never go this long without kissing her again. When you smile into the kiss at knowing you'll never have to, you feel her smile back against you, and things have never felt so perfect in your entire life as they do right now.


End file.
